Can I Keep It?

Whew

The last couple of weeks Hud and I have been social butterflies.  Good thing he has a five day weekend coming up.  I need a rest. 

We photographed the Rhodes College graduation for one.  Went to a wedding at the Metals Museum for another.

The river is very high from all of the snow run off up north.  It's racing so fast that the barges going downstream disappeared in  a matter of minutes, while the ones travelling upstream?  Are probably still fighting the current six days later.

We went to a Gatsby Party, which was grand fun.  And my Art Deco jewelry got to go out for the evening, which it adored. Art Deco jewelry loves a good party.

Our friends, the Flowers.  Hud has known Calvin since they were babies, like sixty years.  Not being hyperbolic, even.  For reals.

We're having the house refinanced.  Zali and Simone were not impressed.  They had to go to jail for a few hours while the appraiser was here.

Muhzer! Wee are ze stressed owt!

I should have put Simone in her Thundershirt. Hud and I did Paws for a Cause a couple of weekends ago and I gave in and bought her one to ease her anxiety.  Two years ago, without warning, Simone became petrified of thunderstorms.  The slightest rumble would cause her to shake so terribly that I was afraid she'd rattle her teeth out of her head.  When I discovered her hiding behind the toilet after I got out of the shower, I knew that I had to try something.  And you know what?

EffingFunderCanBiteMe.GrowlAtSomebodyElse,AshullSky.

It works!  

The Thundershirt doesn't completely put her at ease, but during yesterday's storms, she merely panted a few times.  No shaking!  Simone even managed a nap during a particularly strong line of storms.  I may get one for Boudreaux.  Zoe didn't teach him how to catch a ball like an Olympian, but she did transfer her fear of the vacuum cleaner.

And we went to bunch and lunches with a variety of friends.  That's about enough, isn't it?

Well, there is this:

A baby Fig Parrot.  From Zooborns.com.

You are welcome.

Thanksgiving Love

This  is who I had Thanksgiving with this year.

There is a rumor that the room was filled with 27 people and the world's cutest baby.  I wouldn't know. I only had eyes for Zoey.

Who the heck photoshopped in that man with Zoey?  

Oh, yeah.  I guess we ate something.  We were in the gorgeous mountains in Gatlinburg at the home of my college room mate or something.  Stayed at their River House right on the water or something.  Drank a bunch of moonshine downtown or something.  Did I get any pictures of those? I don't remember.

I miss you, Zoey.  Sigh.

Art Assistants

One of my dearest friends in the whole world sent me a photograph of her newest studio assistants...

I think I hate her now.

Happy Birthday

Sunday was your birthday.  You would have turned fifty.  Happy birthday, Ev.

I thought about you all day.  You know, I still have your texts on my phone.  If I use my best magical thinking, I can pretend you're still here when I read them.  The first texts I ever got.  They're at the top, so sometimes I scroll and run into them.  A warm, sweet surprise. So happy birthday, Evie.

And hey.  I miss you.

Two Million Dogs

Simone says, "HELP!"

Well, not her, but our friend, GInger Morgan, who runs the non-profit, Two Million Dogs Two Miles , which promotes awareness of cancer and dogs.  It's a terrific organization she started years ago, when  her beloved Pete, contracted cancer.  Two Milion dogs is vying for a chance to win a car.  Please go to www.100carsforgood.com and vote for Ginger! They're in second place right now.

If you don't, she's blackmailing me that she will come to my house and teach my dogs bad tricks.  Really?  My boys are already wearing underpants.  If she's got something worse than THAT?  I'm in big trouble.  

GO VOTE! 

Zali says, " No! Don't!  Eye whant to see what sheese got up her sleeve!"

IT"S ONLY TODAY!  GO VOTE!

Howdy, Neighbor!

This is my friend Charlotte's newest neighbor:

Lucky!  No.  Yes.  She is lucky to have him live next door, but his name is Lucky.

And that's his mommy, Twinkle.  Yes, Twinkle.

Now, go take your insulin.  I can feel your sugar crashing from here.

Mona's Creole Cuisine

This year, we celebrated Mona's Creole Cuisine for the Mona Lisa and Moon Pie Krewe parade in Slidell.  I cheated a bit and recycled last year's frog outfits.  We went as frog legs.  I stitched together a couple of pairs of legs for us to carry.  I wish I could have found a wheel chair to push us around in, but alas, that didn't pan out. Charlotte decorated a stroller for us that had a huge plate, knife and fork.  And a ginormous fly for us to eat!

I wasn't the only cheater. Charlotte's son Lowry, repackaged his nutria costume as nutria stew.

He had a giant pot around him for the walk painted with flames.

Charlotte's nephew, Christopher, is a chef.  He runs Christopher's on Cary across the street from the Arcade where we have the Red Beans and Rice Ball after.  His costume, as well as his parents' (Brenda and John) costumes, were a given.

Brenda's Moon Pie cart was tarted up like a dining table.

And Charlotte was a fabulous blue crab.

Charlotte's friends, Addy and Amy went as Wild Rice.

While Amy's dad travelled on his Hov-a-round as a crawfish.

The back of his chair was made up like the shell of the crustacean.  Really cute!

This was the Cereal Killers Krewe.

Of course, they were all properly outfitted as the cartoon characters from the box illustrations.  There was even a Capt'n Crunch, but we failed to bring batteries for the camera.  Waa-wa.

Always dark when we begin, the Flabeaux light our way. Lowry's buds comprised the majority of the torch bearers.

Moon Pie! MOON Pie! MOOOOON PIIIEEEEE!!!  Is still ringing in my ears.

It poured rain all day.  Fifteen minutes before we lined up?  It vanished, leaving a cool night for tossing Moon Pies to the cheering crowds. 

Can't wait until next year!

 

Gratuitous Shot of Zali

Zali, ever the camera shy, has made it to the cover of the WinterArts Christmas card.  Playing the baby Jesus to our middle-aged Madonna and Magi.

Ansley is offering one of her hand batiked ostrich eggs.  Dennis is gifting the dog in the manger one of his hand turned bowls.  And Dorothy is delivering some of her fine jewelry. My halo is by Brian Blankenship.

I know.  It's completely ridiculous.

I poop on eet, Muhzer.

We tried to use Simone, but she is as camera shy as he is a camera hog.  All he has to hear is the click of a shutter or the flash of a light and Zali is posing.  Head over the shoulder. *click* Pouting. *click* Licking his lips.  *click*.

He's better than most models on the cover of Vogue.

But don't fret.  I won't leave you without a gratuitous shot of Simone.

You are welcome.

 

*WinterArts is open every day right through Christmas Eve at four o'clock.  Come by and get some hand-made gifts for your loved ones by some of Memphis' best local artists!*

 

*First photograph by Hud Andrews.  The other two are you know who.

Till Death Us Do Part

A couple of weeks ago we spent a glorius morning at my favorite cemetary witnessing two dear friends say their vows.

 

It was a gorgeous fall day.  The leaves sprinkled down on them like confetti during the ceremony.  Keith and Donna made a handsome couple.

My favorite part of the reception was when Colin, the ring bearer, burst into big alligator tears.  He asked his father, "Is Donna weally marwied?"  His heart broke at the reply.  He was inconsolable.  He just wanted to go home.

Turns out, he had given her a ring the night before. 

After a few Bloody Marys, we roamed the grounds in the sparkling sunshine.  Elmwood Cemetary is filled with interesting monuments from the Victorian Era. Great concrete towers of faux bois tower over somebody's family.

That's me beside it.  I am six feet tall and wearing heels.  The delicacy of the vine work is amazing.

Most of the prominent Memphis who built the city are buried there.  This one is a famous stain glass maker.

Everywhere you turn, there is something wonderous to see.

It really gave new meaning to "Till death us do part".

Questionable Offerings

Zoe has been hard at work in the office.  Filing reports.  Interviewing interns.  Making phone calls.

 
Okay, I may have caught her napping.  But she works so hard! 

Or, you know, not. 

Simone even went up to her to make sure she's still breathing.  To everyone's relief, she was.

Zoe's office is the Booze Hound Bar and Grill on our sun porch.  When we were vacationing in Rhode Island one year to see the mansions and visit Green Animals, we stayed at a B&B.  It was a lovely old gingerbread  Victorian.  I enjoyed strolling throughout the many parlors and hallways, beautifully restored with intricately layered William Morris wallpapers. In the corner of the elegant dining room was an exotic plant.  The likes of which I'd never seen.  At breakfast, I queried the hostess as to it's name and origin. 

*That's a Sharron Barrett Plant Friend sticking out of the top.  And a watering ball from my friend, Tatia Johnson. And a bunny cling from the side from my mother.  Hoarders?  No.  We're collectors.

She blushed.  The plant was the ill gotten gain of her husband on a trip to Monticello.  When he wasn't you know, writing constitutions or being President, Jefferson was a horticulturalist.  He collected plants all over the world and brought them back to his greenhouses in Virginia to propagate.  This was a snippet of one of those treasures.

She asked me if I'd like a piece to take home. And gave me a cutting as we left to catch our plane.  I guess she thought if I became a co-conspiritor that I wouldn't turn her over to authorities.

We just call it the Monticello plant.  Or the Jefferson plant.  It's easy to grow.  Likes bright indirect sunlight and water once a week.  No food.  It blooms several times a year.  And in the years we have had it, it has grown all the way from a four inch trimming to the floor.  It has started to snake its way under Zoe's, er, "desk". 

So we, in turn, have been cutting it off and giving it away to friends.

 

 

And this is also hanging from it.  Because it needs lots of things to amuse it.  That's the only downfall of the plant apparently.

Our friend, Keith Renard gave the Lollypop Baby to us years ago.  He's getting married this November.  last week, we gave them a potted piece of the Monticello plant. 

Stollen property from a landmark estate.  Isn't that what Martha Stuart says in her wedding magazine is the perfect gift for the bride to be?